HxH: Ryomen... Satoru?

The Priestess Card had a mana regeneration effect, so Cyr wasn't particularly worried about Maro being in any serious trouble.

Once Maro woke up from his nap, he'd probably recover just fine.

As for now…

Cyr glanced down at Maro, who was sprawled on the cold floor. He bent down, grabbed the back of Maro's collar, and dragged him to a corner. He propped Maro up against the wall to let him continue sleeping there.

Leaving someone lying in the middle of the floor was just asking for them to get in the way. A corner was much better.

As for taking him back to his room? Cyr wasn't in the mood to be that considerate.

At that moment, a staff member from the Heaven's Arena hurried over, eyeing Cyr with a wary look. Despite their caution, they politely asked,

"Excuse me, contestant, may I ask what happened here?"

It seemed the staff member suspected that the blonde-haired Maro had been killed by the white-haired boy standing before them.

Such things weren't unheard of. In some cases, the scenes left behind were so gruesome that the staff had to clean them up themselves.

"He passed out. Send him back to his room," Cyr replied casually.

Perfect. This staff member had essentially offered themselves up as free labor.

"Huh?" The staff member looked at Cyr, who was already walking away, then glanced back at the unconscious Maro. Ultimately, they decided to take care of the person left behind.

The Empress Card and the Priestess Card had been put to good use, and even the Chariot Card hadn't been wasted—it at least proved future possibilities.

"Starting tomorrow, the contestants should all be Nen users," Cyr murmured to himself as he walked away, leaving Maro entirely forgotten.

"Their life energy isn't bad, but to say they're exceptionally strong… not really. Their abilities likely don't even match Hisoka's."

"Hisoka's record is 11 matches, 8 wins, and 3 losses. Those three losses were all forfeits because he didn't compete within the 90-day limit. Is that guy really so busy? Or is he just running around looking for opponents all over the world?"

"By the rules, it takes ten wins to become a Floor Master, so Hisoka hasn't made it to Floor Master yet, huh."

"I wonder how strong the Floor Masters are…" Cyr muttered as he strolled casually, his footsteps deliberately loud, like he wanted to draw attention.

Should he play around with the title of Floor Master for a bit?

Then, if he ever bumped into Hisoka again, he could thoroughly mock him—

"You mean you're not even a Floor Master in Heaven's Arena? Just go home. You're nothing but a useless adult now."

"Pfft, hahahahaha—"

Cyr couldn't help but imagine the scene—how hilarious it would be to taunt Hisoka like that. Would Hisoka freeze on the spot, turning into a statue like in the anime, or maybe make that dumb, wide-eyed, pouty face?

Bending over with his arms around his stomach, Cyr shook with laughter, completely ignoring the curious stares from people around him.

Without a care, he walked straight to his room, shut the door, and left all those meaningful glances behind.

---

The next morning, Maro woke up stiffly in his bed, rubbing the back of his head as he tried to piece together his lost memories.

Yesterday… he failed!

His face instantly went blank.

He hadn't been able to manifest the vehicle Cyr had wanted! But what baffled him more was waking up in his room after passing out on the street.

Could it be… Cyr was worried about him lying out there and getting stepped on? Was Cyr actually concerned about him?

But he had let Cyr down!

Realizing this, Maro clung to the wall in anguish, repeatedly banging his head against it.

"I'm so useless!"

---

"And now, an exciting match awaits us! The rising superstar Cyr faces off against Bowie in the 220th-floor arena!"

"Super Rookie Cyr climbed straight to the 200th floor in his first visit to Heaven's Arena—what an extraordinary feat!"

"Meanwhile, his opponent, Bowie, already has two wins under his belt on this floor!"

The announcer enthusiastically hyped up the upcoming showdown.

The 200th-floor arena was massive, capable of seating tens of thousands of spectators. The design was noticeably more luxurious compared to the lower floors, with materials that were clearly much sturdier.

The towering, mountain-of-meat Bowie was already on the stage, while his two companions from yesterday sat in the innermost section of the audience.

But the other contestant was nowhere to be seen.

The crowd was growing restless, jeers filling the air.

"That brat must be scared."

"Bet he chickened out!"

"Probably ran back home crying to his mommy! Hahaha!"

"If he doesn't show up soon, we want our money back!"

The growing commotion forced the announcer to step in and calm the crowd.

"Our contestant Cyr has not yet arrived at the arena. With ten minutes left until the match begins, will he appear on time?!"

"Or is he too afraid to face Bowie, choosing instead to avoid the fight altogether? Stay tuned to find out!"

"And of course, refunds are out of the question," the announcer added with a cheerful smile, wiping the sweat from her brow.

---

Cyr, meanwhile, slept soundly until ten minutes before the match. Only then did he lazily open his eyes, get up, wash, and change at his usual unhurried pace.

Right as the announcer began counting down to the start of the match, Cyr strolled onto the stage.

"Our contestant Cyr has arrived! He's made it to the stage right on time!" The announcer, who had been desperately stretching the commentary, let out a sigh of relief and eagerly announced his arrival.

"Without further ado, let the match begin!" she declared, her excitement spilling over.

The audience in the stands, having gone from jeering to outright howling, seemed more hyped than if they were the ones about to fight.

"Kill! Kill! Kill! Crush him, Bowie!"

"Beat that fatso! Go, rookie kid!"

The cheers were split into two camps, each side fervently wishing for the other fighter to be knocked out—or worse.

It was obvious they had bet a lot of money on this match.

Cyr glanced at the enormous man across the arena. Bowie's face was so buried in layers of fat that his features were squished together, making it impossible to discern his expression.

"Not going to attack me?" Bowie asked, his tone brimming with anticipation. It was as if he wanted to be hit.

"Heh. Go ahead, kid. Once you attack me, you'll only feel despair. Everyone who tries ends up hopeless in the end."

Something was off.

What kind of nen ability did this guy have? Cyr's curiosity piqued.

A thin, green aura of nen enveloped Bowie's entire body.

"Are you a masochist?" Cyr remarked, standing in place. With a subtle motion of his index finger, he unleashed an invisible slash toward the green aura.

The attack was deflected.

"Ah, only 30% of its power at 30% compatibility,"* Cyr thought.

But it was strange. His slash, which could injure someone like Hisoka, couldn't penetrate Bowie's aura. This guy's defense was far superior to Hisoka's in that regard.

"A defense-specialized type, huh? Interesting."

In a blink, Cyr teleported behind Bowie, landing a punch aimed at the back of his head.

But Bowie only tilted his head slightly, showing no signs of injury.

"Hmm, the nen around his body is evenly distributed, with no weak spots in his defense. But maintaining this kind of defense must come at a cost, right?"

Cyr observed quietly. Bowie remained stationary, making no move to attack. Was it because of his massive size, limiting his mobility?

To the onlookers, though, Cyr standing there deep in thought looked like he had already run out of options.

"Hahahahahaha!" Bowie bellowed, clutching his enormous belly in laughter.

"Come on, kid, bring it! You can't break through my defense. My defense is the strongest!"

"Does your ability have any other uses?" Cyr suddenly asked, fixing his sharp blue gaze on Bowie.

What? Bowie thought, baffled. What kind of question is that?*

Who in their right mind would casually reveal their ability to an opponent?

"Why don't you guess? I'm not telling you what my ability is," Bowie retorted internally, now convinced Cyr was a strong but somewhat dim-witted rookie.

Did this kid seriously think he could end the fight with just his fists, like against those weaker opponents below the 200th floor?

Not answering, huh? Well, that was expected.

This wasn't a world where revealing your technique would somehow make it stronger.

But—

"Then I'll make you show me," Cyr said with a smirk, dark blue and black energy swirling around his arm.

°°°

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